Welcome to Gaia! ::

About fifty miles away from the battleground there lies a a bit of land with nothing there but grass and trees. A small portal had opened in the sky, without any spiritual presence residing from it at all. In the Spirit World, such portals are considered taboo. Thus the importance of hiding all spiritual pressure. The land below had experienced quite a change, as sand had poured in, and giant gusts of wind had affected the immediate area only. With the stale air coming through, a decently sized lump had fallen onto a three foot pile of sand. The stale air killed off most of the vegetation, but that's incredibly common, as the environment of Hueco Mundo is quite different from that of the Spirit Realm. However, any further from the immediate area of the portal was completely untouched. No harm had come to anything but the trees and grass which were taxed of their life in such a quick amount of time. The small gap in the sky quickly disappeared, there was no need to give away anything to anyone. Especially on a night so orchestrated such as this night.

The small lump curled up on the sand began to spread out, a young looking man sat up and looked around. He had the look of stupor cradling his face, as he seemed to be confused about the situation. If he weren't surrounded by miles upon miles of forest, someone might have been able to hear him mutter "Damn it all, I missed again. I must really get my bearings messed up." This was followed by a quick seizure of giggles. The man decided to stand up and get all of the coarse sand out from his clothes. "Oh, Hueco Mundo, how can you be so terrible to me!? I lo~ove you. Tee-hee!" the childish man released a small burp from his mouth, resulting in a tiny explosion in the air. "The sand is even in my lungs, oh no~oo. Whatever will I do? Maybe a hero on a white horse will come and save me!" The man had assumed a "damsel in distress pose" as he spoke these words to literally no-one. He brushed the sand out of his ruby-orange hair, and shook off his purple shirt. Picking up the sheathed sword next to him, he quickly wrapped it around his right shoulder upside down, quite possibly just to irk everyone into asking him how it doesn't fall out like that. He took a few strolls around the sand dune he'd created and yawned in utter boredom. "I wonder what he has planned, that loveable man; Fate. I wonder where everyone is!" ((This was a reference to predestined futures, not an actual man with the name Fate - just to clear that up)).

A complete recovery had commenced, and the entire time, not even a sliver of reiatsu had been shed. This man was literally invisible in terms of power. Of course this didn't stop his noisy chattering and laughter. He soared up into the sky, quite casually, making sure no-one was around. He proceeded in using several shunpo to get close around fifteen miles away from where a bunch of hollows were attacking what seemed to be, in this man's mind, children. "O, how utterly juvenile of these wonderful Hollows! I'm quite impressed! Tee-hee!" The man giggled more, and watched the battle commence, knowing the future outcome of these children. "Ooooh, a captain! Maybe we can have some fun with him, Ombra'marmitta!" He spoke as if he saw someone next to him, but in reality he was talking to the sword on his shoulder. "And maybe, and maybe, and maybe, and maybe, I can kill somthing! Ahhhh-haha! OH LOOOK! There's a Hollow no~ow Should we play with it! I'm sure it can take quiiiiiiiiite the beating! Tee-hee~! We can go get some CAKE afterwards!"

The man, who was still in the air had done quite a few stationary flips filled with laughter. He started to mock the Hollow, pretending to crawl in the air and breathing heavily, with playful growls. Suddenly, the man's entire body jerked and a new scratchy voice replaced his playfully sweet voice. "Maroon, stop messing around and keep patient! What was that Oblvano? Yeah, this stupid buffoon is acting like a child again!" Just as fast as it came, the sweet voice dominated the scratchy awkward one "Shut-up, Chamo, you're such a vile and ugly, and stoopid, and dumb, and stoopid hollow. Don't you have something else to do other than talk to your imaginary friends!? At least Ombra'marmitta is real, dummy!" Chamo's voice did not respond, and Maroon took complete control over his body yet again. He was somewhat angry and disappointed that he stopped goofing off for now, and payed more attention to the matters at hand. Soon the orchestration of events will take place and still no-one had noticed him. Maroon was rather far away, so it was quite impossible to notice him regardless of his loud tendencies. He quietly pouted out of boredom, and started flying in figure eights to pass the time away. This unstable man, was a Vaizard, and it had been quite some time since he was home. "I wonder how Kisuke-senpai is~ss!" Maroon said flirtatiously as he finished another figure eight. "Ohhh well!" His open shirt was catching the wind and it made him giggle like mad, as his ruby-orange hair waved in motion.

And his name was Maroon, who knows what his motives are? Obviously he and his multiple "friends" know, but only time will fully tell.

Makoto jumped back from the spiraling vacuum that had suddenly sprung into existance before him. His initial reaction was one of fear; a rare sight in this seemingly mellow personality. This was definitely shaping up to be an interesting night. The emerald-eyed sixth-rounder had not been separated from Tsubame, so he was able to protect her if need be. Knowing it would have no effect whatsoever, Makoto refrained from attacking the encroaching mass, choosing instead to step backwards to maintain his proximity to his charge.

Charles' acts of defense are becoming more and more desperate. Despite the massive efforts, he is still only a first year lost in a graduate swarm of very real danger. Swings are met and slowly being shrugged off by the larger Hollows that encroach on his position. It is as if his confidence is being siphoned off into the horde of ebony death that moves forward as he is left with less and less room to maneuver.

Lost in the throng of battle, Charles doesn't bother to refrain from speaking out loud with his frantic cries to his weapon. "Can't you grow spikes, or blades, or something on that chain?! We are about to get slaughtered here!" In his mind, the spider actually turns to look at him plaintively. If I were holding anything back I would tell you! The pair are using every trick they might think of-- the weighted end as a tripping mechanism, the blade out in a swinging arc, even aiming it at a faceplate or two. Unrefined, the attacks get the job done, but are becoming predictable. Thankfully, some new help manages to work their way towards him. Two students- one looks familiar to him in some way, work their wounded forms near to him. With a friendly wave and offer, the girl offers assistance. With a return wave and an enthusiastic nod, Charles welcomes any help he can get.

Then . . . a new problem.

With his back to the main portal above and his comrades, Charles has a perfect view of the Hollows shifting. Something is gaining as much attention as his resistance cell. When they mainly turn to look, the Shimigami in training gets a view of his own. A swirling vortex of light and shadow forms before him, promising pain and death in its twisting embrace. In that momentary pause Charles finds his voice speaks without any person to talk to in particular.

"Oh crap . . . "

That pause does not last long, and the fight resumes, but now Charles is even more aware of his movements, and is extremely careful not to let the chain anywhere near that mass of death. Being new to this fight, the drain of reiatsu is not as dramatic on him as others. Unable to use such a resource yet, he only knows that his fatigue is growing at an alarming pace. Leaning his head back to the right as he continues to strike out he calls to those behind him.

"If you are gonna do something- better make it quick! I don't know how much longer I'm able to keep this up!" The cool and calm are now replaced by a frantic exasperation, and a bit of haggard resignation. Refusing to be useless, he keeps fighting on- digging in his heels and denying that he is not ready for this. He will hold as long as he can stand, and he will stand as long as he is awake enough to do so.

It's not odd to see the process of poking something with a stick in the lines of history. The ancient cavemen did this as a way of determining whether something was hard or soft, what they perceived as alive or dead. Later eras of man considered this same technique useful for understanding the dead from the living. Maroon, as civilized as he was, was poking a mobile hollow with a large branch he'd torn from a tree for pure amusement. The hollow had to suffer through this tiresome torment, as he had already tried to rebel. Maroon merely smacked the hollow in the face hard enough that the hollow almost melded with the ground. Maroon had simply said "Oh no nii-chan! Don't hurt me~ee" and giggled as he continued jabbing the pitiful hollow with the branch.

A vortex appeared in the sky, and as Maroon looked upon it, he burst into laughter. "It's about time, nii-sama!" ((referring to the portal)) Quickly looking around, he decided it was no longer necessary to hide his reiatsu, and he just let it course through him and the surrounding land. As he was already floating, Maroon turned his body upside down, his shirt hanging from his shoulders. He started singing off-key "Shunpo~oo" multiple times with different tones of voice for every mention of the word. And each time he used Shunpo, he would end up right in front of each shinigami or shinigami in training. As he was still upside-down, he needn't address them politely. He said only one word, and he spoke it incredibly flamboyantly. "HAI~III!" Waving erratically to each one as if they were old friends. Before he left he mocked the shinigami rather vexingly with the opposite of what he'd just said "BAI~III!". Maroon did this for each of the shinigami, before he landed right in front of Captain Kuchiki.

Maroon had once been a shinigami, about two hundred years ago. He remembered each of the captains well. "Byakuya nee-chan! How are yo~ouuu!?" Maroon giggled and as he did so, the captain's face was priceless. "Ma-Maroon!?" The shocked captain had never looked so silly. Chamo jerked Maroon's body again retorting in his scratchy voice "You're damn right it's-" Chamo was abruptly interrupted by Maroon who once again took over. "Sorry about, that Taicho!" Maroon stuck his tongue out while closing his eyes then used shunpo out of the area to leave everyone on their own. With this chance encounter, Maroon got a fantastic idea: He would play a prank on each other the other captains that were still around! Most importantly, Yamamoto-taicho. He cut through the Seireitei's border like it was water, and entered throwing all of Soul Society into havoc. He quickly snuck in and stole all of the Captain and Lieutenant's zanpakuto and hid them. As he chuckled, he stalked behind Yamamoto, Maroon concealing his reiatsu entirely and he quickly drew a smiley face on Yamamoto's white adornment. As he finished his signature, he exited Seireitei and quickly moved back to the battlefield with the queerest grin on his face.

"Well, I think I'll help speed things up!" Maroon told Ombra'marmitta. Maroon held out his hand, focusing reiatsu towards the tips of the fingers on his left hand. He hated using this technique, but it would prove entertaining he though. It took about as much time as it would take a human to tie their shoes, and Maroon's face suddenly took a serious look. "Cero." The blast was controlled by his reiatsu as it devoured the land directly inbetween Seireitei and the area right behind all of the fighting shinigami. Maroon giggled, flying around erratically. He swooped down, unsheathing the sealed form of Ombra'Marmitta and started slicing the hollows.

And his name was Maroon, he and his multiple "friends" raised arms.

The hollows he was fighting, though not incredibly powerful, were certainly fast. Most of his attacks failed to land, and the ones that did rarely dealt fatal blows. Leaping back from the immediate action once more, his assailants seemed unaware of the whirling vortex above. As he pepared to once again enter the fray, a flamboyant inverted man suddenly appeared before him. Startled by the appearance, he didn't have time to react to the rapid greeting and farewell before the man once again disappeared. Who the heck was that? He doesn't look like a captain, but to be able to Shunpo upside-down, he must be powerful. He seems to be taking this situation lightly, though the ability to leave this conflict at any time does attribute to that attitude.

The hollows he was facing weren't too terribly phased by the strange man's short visit, so they were already beginning another attack on Yuki. Yuki held his drossel to his side, ready to make a horizontal slice when the practically stampeding hollows got close enough. Just as they came within contact range, Maru powered-down to its sealed form. Not noticing the change caused by his lack of available reitsu to sustain the transformed state, Yuki swung the katana. It only hit the front-most hollow for damage so minimal that its momentum wasn't even interrupted. This hollow kept moving forward as its black claws dug into his right shoulder. The pain was incredible, causing Yuki to fall to the ground. Due to this change of stance, the majority of the hollows flew over him; they were all aiming for his head and torso. The hollows, though not the most intelligent beings, could plainly see that his spiritual pressure was rapidly diminishing. This is it, I'm done for. With the strength required just to keep a grip on Maru growing more taxing, he dropped the blade to the ground. Turning to face his foes, he waited for death. As what Yuki thought would be the final assault neared his damaged body, a flash of pink and silver tore through the mass. ost of the hollows fell to the ground in pain, each bearing a severe laceration. What hollows weren't writhing in agony were frozen in place, their masks having been severed into oblivion.

(( Do be do... this place is, like... Dead. What irony gonk ))


Nirami drove away a Hollow as he saw Hans get thrown across the area through the corner of his eyes. He then seemed blind to anything else, even as he stabbed at a Hollow who was trying to get at him. Watching her form go still made him forget his exhaustion, and he was soon moving towards her form, quickly coming up behind the Hollow that was aimed for her. His speed was quite quick, and he was soon in front of the creature, driving Homura up to the hilt into its' chest without any concern for fighting tactics.

A flare of Reiatsu, and Homura sprung back into Shikai as Nir angrily took out the hollow that had followed him over. This was it... He was using up the rest of everything, now, and he knew he was due to black out completely. Still, with the last of his energy, he stood over Hans' form and protected her while he could still stand. When his reiatsu was spent completely, he sunk to one knee, panting and blinking dizzily.

There wasn't much Nir could do anymore, and so he shifted his good arm so that he could tear off his remaining sleeve. The hollows didn't seem to sense him much anymore, and so they moved around him as he shakily set the fabric under Hans' head as best he could with one hand. Maybe that'd work to help stop the bleeding from her head that he could see partially around her.

Glancing around, Nir noted in his blur that all the dead bodies of other Shimigami and students seemed to be ignored. He looked down at Hans, now barely crouched on his knees and hand next to her. Without thinking, he lay himself over her in a protective way, and blacked out. Maybe anything would attack him before it got to her. It didn't make sense for such a person like Hans to die like that. First year trying to learn to be a shimigami, and then killed on her first day...

In a battle of overwhelming odds, there is a short list of saving graces for the smaller combatants. Either reinforcements will come to their aid and drive back the overwhelming foe, or some miraculous event will save them. Thus far, the students and shimigami have not had any reinforcements to call . . . and the miracle is one of disaster. Like a flooding river ravaging a forest, the deluge of darkness is quickly overpowering every opponent. Expanding the problem is a vortex of reiatsu that devours the very strength of every remaining defender of sanity.

Charles is left with the choice of a soldier. With the arrival and apparent disappearance of a savior, his heart is raised and lost in a matter of seconds. As a matter of warfare, that is not so inconsequential. Then, his mind is forced to see something else. The first year that came to his aid loses her focus and is taken down. Her companion flies to her prone body- live or dead, and shields her. Now comes the choice. All seems to stop for a moment. In his mind, an empty and wide plain where at the moment only he and a man-sized spider wait.

"There is nothing we can do." the silken voice of a spider begins.
"They are not lost yet."
"Their strength is gone. A single strike will end their battle." Pedipalps turned hands reach out pleadingly.
"Which can come at any time."
"We are not strong enough to save them." The hands cross defensively before it's many eyes.
"If this continues, we are dead anyway."
"Help may yet arrive." Eight eyes bore into the human's gaze.
"And if it does not?"
"Then . . . we are doomed." Lowering it's posture, the spider seems to be resigned to what will happen.
"I wish we had more time, Aitourensa. I wish you and I could become stronger. It seems we are not destined for that."

Back in the world around him, Charles narrows his eyes. In his hands, his zanpaktou faintly glows a gossamer silver. Against desperate will, the weapon reverts to an earlier form. Left with a single sword, instead of blade and chain, Charles steels himself for what is to come. Had he stayed, his odds of survival were higher. At the back of Kuichiki-taicho, he had a good chance of surviving.

Survival is not enough.

With all the speed his weak form can muster, Charles races out into the throng. Two or three Hollows feel the swift bite of steel and fall to a severed limb. A dozen jarring blows land on the racing man. Rolling with his momentum and wounds, he rolls to a stop next to his supporters. A man laying atop a weakened and subconscious comrade. Coiling his legs beneath him, and holding his blade ready for a strike, Charles prepares for an ambush attack. It may appear that the Hollows are ignoring them for now, but sooner or later they will sense an easy meal.

Their meal won't be that easy- Charles will see to it.